


Anchored Faithfully

by fanficwriter322



Category: Allen Leech - Fandom, Downton Abbey, Emma Watson - Fandom, NCIS, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Zachary Levi - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Assault, Crimes & Criminals, Fluff, Infertility, Jealousy, Language, Long-Distance Relationship, Marine Corps, Miscarriage, Navy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychology, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Secret Relationship, Smut, Stalking, Terrorism, Torture, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4435850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficwriter322/pseuds/fanficwriter322
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is pure fiction. I watch NCIS to the point where I imagine I am one of the agents. So, I decided to write about it in a multichapter fanfiction.<br/>As for you Downton Abbey and the celebrities' fans, I hope you won’t be disappointed. They'll appear in later chapters. I promise. Just hold out till then. To paraphrase Hamlet, there is a method to my madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is merely an introductory one sans dialogue. Dialogue to come in later chapters. I'm new at this. Please forgive me if my creative writing skills aren't up to par. I am trying.

**Chapter: Prologue**

Fresh out of college, looking for work. Not easy, right? Well, I suppose it depends upon your major. If it’s business or public relations, odds are you’re set. But I didn’t go that route. Nope. I chose to study international relations and minor in political science. Well, actually, I only declared my minor when my advisor told me I might as well since I had already done all of the work for my major. So, here I am, Ana Marie Hunter, looking for a job in my field of study. Goodbye, Northeast Ohio. Hello, Washington, D.C.

Before I get into that, I ought to elaborate my name. You see, only a few family members call me by my first and middle name, mostly my aunt. To this day, I am still not entirely sure as to why she does so. Because I’m in trouble? To embarass me? Because she likes the sound of it? Whatever the reason, I go along with it, even in public. But I prefer Ana. And for the record, it’s pronounced “on-uh” not “an-uh.” If it was the latter, it would be Anna not Ana. Biggest pet peeve ever. I’m used to it and try to be a good sport about it, but it still without fail manages to piss me off when someone misspells or mispronounces my name.

Now, that I got that little important tidbit out of the way, back to my employment situation. I managed to wrangle an interview with a federal agency that deals with the Navy and Marine Corps, which means I get to utilize my degree and get to travel. Of course, before I could get the interview, I had to go through a grueling training program at this place called FLET-C. It wasn’t quite like GI Jane but I got to keep my hair, but I made it through it one piece and got training in interrogation and psychological profiling. I get to put that analytical mind to good use and solve crimes. Wahoo! I just had to get through one more thing to get there. His name: Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

I had heard stories about Agent Gibbs when I went through NCIS training at FLET-C. (You’ll have to forgive my abbreviations; it just makes things easier for me.) The man with a steely-eyed glare and salt-and-pepper hair. The former Marine sniper. The name alone could easily inspire fear. He was my interviewer for a spot with his team, a very coveted position, mind you, but also avoided because of how brash Gibbs is towards people. Yet, none of that phased me. I can handle intimidation and a former Marine. The same aunt who calls me by both my first and middle names when she remarried, she married a retired Marine, a platoon sergeant. I knew that I wasn’t taking on my uncle when I met Special Agent Gibbs, but I was confident that I could handle him, and I was right. I didn’t cower in fear or stumble on my words when he sat in eerie silence trying to get a read on me and see if he could break me or not, thus making me a female probationary field agent he wouldn’t object to adding to his team.

Now, as for the members of his team. Besides Gibbs, there was another male agent: Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo (his words, not mine).

Tony had been a detective with Baltimore police and other police departments before becoming an NCIS agent. He had a year of seniority over me and never failed to remind me of it. He wasn’t cruel or patronizing, but he was a bit of a womanizer. I would catch him undressing me with his eyes and eyefucking me right then and there when he was supposed to be working. I never considered myself attractive even though I was 5'7" and about 120 pounds after losing a considerable amount of weight that I had gained in college (freshman 15 was cruel to me for sure) with dishwater blonde hair and blue eyes. No guys did except losers and pervs. At about 6'1" with light brown, disheveled hair; blue eyes; and a debonair, mischievous smile, Tony was handsome, but I wasn’t finding myself attracted to him. Don’t get me wrong, the flirting was flattering. But even if was interested in him, Gibbs had a non-fraternization rule even though the agency doesn’t. Actually, he has about 50 rules. Rule 12: Never date a coworker.

Gibbs, DiNozzo, and myself were the only agents on the team. There was an agent whose desk was behind mine that kind of befriended me: Christopher Pacci. But he wasn’t on the team. Nor was Director Tom Morrow. But as for the other team members, there was the forensic specialist, the medical examiner, and his assistant.

The forensic specialist is a Miss Abigail Sciuto. 5'10" without her 3"-4" platform shoes, black hair usually in pigtails, and green eyes. The happiest goth you will ever meet. Every day is Halloween for Abby. She may be a devout Catholic and bowl with nuns, but she is superstitious. She even believed a gun was evil because of the amount of crimes in which it was involved to the point where she burned incense to eliminate the evil spirits. Covered in tattoos, including a large spider web on her neck. She even sleeps in a coffin. I guarantee that I am not pulling your leg here. I am completely serious.

The medical examiner. 5'8" with gray hair. Kind blue eyes. Everything about Dr. Donald “Ducky” Mallard was kind and gentle. Born in Scotland, raised in London, Ducky was a true British gentleman. A gregarious one at that. He is always telling a story, “this reminds me of a time when…”, “when I was a lad…”, “when I was Eton…”, “when I was at Edinburgh Medical School…” You get the gist.

 

**.......to be continued.......**

 


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains explicit language and violence in the form of sexual assault.

**Chapter: One**

 

There are three words from Gibbs’ mouth are an indication that we have a case, but we don’t always know exactly what we’ve got until we arrive at our destination.

“Grab your gear.”

“What do we got, boss?” DiNozzo asked.

“A dead Marine.”

DiNozzo then spoke to me, “Relax, probie. It’s not like it’s your first time in the field.”

“Tony, I’ve seen dead bodies before. I’m fine. Call me probie one more time, and you won’t be.” I said entering the elevator, eliciting a smirk from Gibbs.

We arrive at the crime scene and Ducky and Gerald are already there becoming acquainted with our dead Marine. Gibbs approaches Ducky while Tony and I grabbed the gear needed to process the crime scene from the back of the truck. 

“What do ya got, Duck?”

“Ah, hello, Jethro. Dreadful thing, isn’t it?”

“Duck. The body.”

“Yes, well. Marine Private First Class George Jolson appears to have been shot.” Ducky pulls out the liver probe out of the body and states, “based on liver temp, I would put time of death to about five hours ago.“ 

Gibbs then turns to Tony. “DiNozzo, go talk to the person who found the body and see what else they saw while Ana take photos.”

“Yes, boss.” Tony and I say in unison. Tony heads over to talk to a balding man in his mid-forties while I pull out the professional Nikon and start snapping pictures of the crime scene and the body itself with direction from Dr. Mallard as to various things on PFC Jolson to take note of to aid us in our investigation. 

Dr. Mallard and Gerald place the corpse in a body bag and onto the stretcher, placing both in the back of the medical examiner’s vehicle. After all of the evidence has been documented with the camera, it is bagged and tagged and loaded in the truck. Then, Gibbs, DiNozzo, and myself get back in the NCIS truck and head back to headquarters at the Navy Yard.

Tony and I go together to the evidence garage and then to Abby’s lab to deposit the evidence collected at the crime scene. Abby was her usual bubbly self blasting her goth rock as she always had done in the month that I have been with the agency. Despite her peculiarities, we got along well straight from the beginning. She’s a hugger to say the very least.

After visiting Abby’s lab, Tony had to hit the head so he pawned off the finding all we can about the victim onto me. Typical hazing. “Just do it, probie. I’m the senior field agent.”

“What did I say about calling me probie?”

“That’s what you are. Probationary field agent. Deal with it, probie.”

I gave him my best dirty look and resisted the urge to smack him. I went to my desk in a huff and sat down. I opened up the search option and typed in our marine’s name looking for anything to help us appease Gibbs, which is damn near impossible. I have had people ask me how to get on his good side. “That’s easy. He doesn’t have one.”

 _Okay. Marine Private First Class George Jolson. Who are you and who wanted to kill you? And what the hell did you do to piss them off?_ I thought to myself.  _Let’s see here. From Houston, Texas. Single. No dependents. Enlisted straight out of high school. Spotless record. Yet, you’re dead. You must have done something that your superiors didn’t put in your file. I should probably call them and have them come in. "Always anticipate.“ Or should I wait until Gibbs gives the order? He’ll probably give it to DiNozzo. Typical chauvinism. The only time a woman is equal to a man is in death. Incoming. Tony is going to want an update so he can one-up me with Gibbs and make me look even more like a rookie. Like Gibbs would fall for that. He know that I did the work and DiNozzo stole credit to look good in front of the boss. Wait, jump back. Cairo? What was he doing in Egypt?_

“What do you got?” DiNozzo spoke interrupting my thoughts.

“Not much.” I gave him the highlights. When I mentioned Cairo, he looked just as curious as I felt. That’s when Gibbs appeared seemingly out of thin air.  _Damn it. I’m never going to get used to that._

“Cairo? What was he doing there?”

“I’m not sure, boss. That’s what I’m trying to find out.” I continue typing and scrolling coming up empty at every turn. “Sorry, boss. It doesn’t say. And I can’t find anything further on it. It’s almost as if the search is supposed to turn up nothing. All it says is Cairo and there is no elaboration. There aren’t any Marine involvements listed in Egypt’s capital. Nor Navy. Maybe a vacation. Not the best place to take a vacation right now considering the political unrest. Sorry, Gibbs.”

“Rule 6: Never apologize. It’s a sign of weakness. DiNozzo, call the CO and get him over here.”

_Called it._

“On it, boss. Are we going to be taking a trip to Egypt, boss?”

Gibbs just gave DiNozzo the look. The “shut up and get back to work” look, that is. The phone on his desk rang. It was Abby. Even if Gibbs hadn’t said, “What do ya got, Abbs?” you could still make out that it was from Abby, her gravely voice saying “Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs” and her unique taste of music coming out of the receiving end of the telephone. We had nothing. Abby was able to confirm that the PFC was shot but couldn’t get any further with the ballistics in a way that would help find Jolson’s killer.

After we spoke to Jolson’s superiors and got nowhere further than we already were, the three of us boarded a Navy aircraft carrier to North Africa. When we landed, Gibbs went immediately in search of coffee to enable his habit. Addiction would be a better word, to be honest. He consumes like four or five ventis, straight black, extra strong, per day. I don’t think Gibbs even sleeps. I think he periodically makes a whirring noise and just shuts down.

While Gibbs was getting his necessary java, DiNozzo and I were in the marketplace. Somehow I managed to get a little bit too far from him. I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings. Especially in regards to Rule 35: Always watch the watchers. Because of my smidgen of distance from Tony, two Egyptian men grabbed me. One of whom tightly placed his hand on my mouth so I couldn’t scream for help, not that it would have done any good considering how loud the Egyptian marketplace was. DiNozzo didn’t notice I had been grabbed.

I fought back as best as I could, even though the odds were not in my favor. The more I fought back, the worse the assault got. I had bruises almost everywhere. I had a split lip. My nose was broken. I had three fractured ribs on my right side. They slam my head into a doorframe giving me a pretty fucking painful concussion. They took my handcuffs and had to dislocate my left shoulder to restrain me. After having bit the hand over my mouth, it was moved to my throat, squeezing just enough to stay conscious and alive. I could take blood in my mouth. A knife cut my abdomen and nicked my neck. The one guy sat on my stomach while his friend pulled off my jeans and ripped off my panties. He then, after his buddy moved to pin down my wrists, placed his one hand on my throat and squeezed and with the other shoved his penis inside of my vagina, ripping my hymen into bloody shreds causing immense pain, like pouring alcohol on a papercut but twenty times worse. After he finished, the men switched places, tearing things I never knew I had, choking me so tightly that I started to black out.

After they both finished, the first guy took my gun and put it to the back of my head, and I heard a gunshot, shortly followed by a second one.

I opened my eyes and saw Gibbs. My boss saved my life. He unclasped the cuffs, retrieved my Sig Sauer, put my jeans back on me, and carried me to the US Embassy for medical attention.

Meanwhile, DiNozzo could barely look at me because deep down he blamed himself for not being a good partner and not having my back.

 

**To be continued….**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, I will cover the aftermath of the incident in Cairo.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit content
> 
> Summary: How Ana deals with what happened to her. Will she forgive DiNozzo? What will happen when a handsome psychologist shows interest in her?

**Chapter: Two**

Despite the pain meds the doctor gave me at the embassy and the jet lag, I didn’t feel drowsy. I wish I was. I needed to sleep. I had no energy. As much as I required rest, every single fucking time, I closed my eyes, I replayed the event on a loop in my head. I could feel their hot, wet breath on my neck. I could feel their hands on me. It still felt like I was being torn apart. I needed a shower more than anything right there. But I knew, in the back of my mind, that no matter how many times I cleaned myself, I would never stop feeling violated and dirty. I refused to meet the eyes of my colleagues.

Gibbs, I could tell, was concerned, angry, and looking at me with pity.

_I don’t want your pity, and I, sure as hell, don’t need it. So stop looking at me like that. It only makes it worse. Maybe I’m not cut out for this job after all. With all of my training and as feisty as I can be, they never should have been able to hurt me as much as they did. I swear to God that no man will ever make me feel like this again, even if I have to kill him to keep him from doing so._

DiNozzo blamed himself. He knew he should have been paying attention to his surroundings.

_Rule 1: Never screw over your partner. I am his partner and he didn’t have my back, and it cost me my virginity and dignity and, very nearly, my life. He should blame himself. But I blame myself too. I wasn’t strong enough or skilled enough to thwart their horrid advances. Two against one. I didn’t like those odds. Here I have two able-bodied men who could beat somebody to a bloody pulp and neither of could save me in time. Maybe, it’s true, that the only person you really have to depend on is yourself. God, I am such a disappointment. What do I do now? I feel so dirty. I need a shower. I just want to go home and lock the door of my apartment. Oh, shit. Athena. Please, please, tell me that my adorable German Shepherd puppy hasn’t destroyed my apartment. I have only had her a month. I can’t sleep alone. I went from living at home with my mom in a separate bedroom to living alone. I needed something to fill up the void and to be there at night so I don’t feel so damn lonely. What’s her reaction going to be once she sees me. I must look like I stepped straight out of a horror movie. Oh, the pilot’s announcing that we’re about to land. Thank God. I don’t want to deal with the debriefing right now. Hopefully, Gibbs will respect that._

A Navy aircraft carrier is not the smoothest ride. The seats are damn uncomfortable when you haven’t been assaulted. Imagine how much more so they are after an injury.

When we touched down onto the tarmac, we disembarked the plane and headed to the NCIS-issue Chrysler Sedan. DiNozzo let me take the passenger seat, which was unusual, because whenever we went anywhere, he would always call shotgun or pull rank.

_God forbid he be a gentleman. I know why you’re doing it now, Tony. It’s not going to assuage your guilt. Being nice to me doesn’t change what happened. What’s done is done. Accept that you screwed up and I paid the price._

Gibbs turned the ignition, and the car’s engine roared to life, and Gibbs peeled out of the airport as his usual reckless over-the-speed limit rate. We arrived back at the Navy Yard in record time.

Ducky double checked my immediate wounds and asked me, “Are you sure you’re alright, my dear? I don’t think you should be alone right now.“

“I’m fine.” I responded a bit too curtly given the genteel demeanor he displayed towards me.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” Abby worriedly repeated as she took in my disheveled state. She looked absolutely horrified that something like this could possibly happen with Gibbs around. In her mind, nothing can happen to any of us without Gibbs’ okay. And here I stood, bruised, broken, and bloodied. I knew I was sure I looked an absolute fright, but I didn’t want the mollycoddling to continue. I appreciated the concern but I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with Ducky and Abby fretting over me. What made the situation worse was the stares and whispers from the other people in the building. I didn’t even want to think about what they could have possibly been saying.

The whispering slowly dissipated and those doing so went back to work as if nothing scandalous had happened. I soon realized the cause as Director Morrow made his way down the stairs from the hallway that houses his office, the conference room, and the Multi-Threat Assessment Center into the bullpen where the team sans Gerald plus Agent Pacci stood.

The director spoke, “What the hell happened? Agent Gibbs, explain this to me. How did you manage to let an NCIS agent get raped in a foreign country where she doesn’t speak the language? Agent Hunter, you are on convalescent leave until your wounds heal.” Then he walked away and back up to his office.

Gibbs turned to me and hesitantly put his arm around, which I shrugged off. I wanted to crawl up into the fetal position and be invisible. I just wanted to go home and be alone. Gibbs must have picked up on this and led me to the elevator without touching me figuring that it would only make it worse. He silently drove me to my apartment and made sure I got in okay.

“I’m fine, boss. You can go. I just really want to be alone right now. Please.”

Gibbs nodded and then left my flat closing the door behind him. I proceeded to lock it fully and take a deep breath. And regretted it immediately after the sharp-shooting pain in my side kicked in, reminding me that even the simplest tasks, including breathing, are not going to be easy.

I eased myself down onto my couch to sit and take my shoes off. I desperately needed to change clothes. Up to this point, I was going commando, which I never do. My jeans had to have blood on them. The female doctor that Gibbs managed to wrangle and replace the male doctor to whom I was initially assigned did her best to clean me up down there. I have only had to get stitches once up to this point in my life. I managed to cut the top of my head open when I was two. My scalp and vagina have two different levels of sensitivity. Thankfully, she said that they should dissolve on their own in time, but she did say that it still was okay for me to bathe. I stripped off my clothes and debated whether to throw them in the laundry or into the trash. I tossed them into my hamper and told myself that I will deal with them later. First, I needed a shower.

_This is going to be interesting. Three broken ribs. A dislocated shoulder. Cuts. Bruises. Concussion. This shower will definitely take me longer than most. Nice and easy. Take it slow. Okay. Here goes nothing._

I turned on the water and stepped in. I stood for a moment and just let the water cascade down my beaten body, hoping that it would wash me clean in more ways than one. I took my time washing my hair and my skin, not missing an inch, except I was careful not to get my stitches too wet. I gently dried myself off with a towel and got dressed.

Up to this point, it felt like I was just going through the motions, as if on autopilot. My despondency keeping me numb. I had managed to catch a glimpse of myself in the vanity mirror in the bathroom after my shower.

And then it resonated in me. I had been raped. I had been violently violated. I almost died. It was my first near-death experience. To top it off, I was no longer a virgin. A choice I had made to wait for the right guy to come along was taken from me when the men tore me apart. I felt worthless.

I felt the salty tears against my tears. I was soon gasping for breath, unsure if it was from my emotional breakdown or because of my ribcage injury.

Despite my convalescent leave and the standard operating procedures regarding agents’ badges and sidearms, I had my Sig Sauer laying on my coffee table. I sat down on my couch again and took the gun in my hand. I felt the weight of it. It was tempting to use it. I cocked the gun because I heard a thump, from one of my neighbors. I opened my mouth and started to put the gun towards and into it. My finger traced itself down to the trigger. It brushed against it when my phone vibrated and indicated that I had a new text message. I hesitated. I deliberated. I put the firearm back down on the table and picked up my phone to read the text. It was from my best friend. To this day, Anastacia doesn’t know because of her tendency to bingewatch tv shows that she saved my life.

_“OMG. This show is hilarious. M*A*S*H is great.“_

Rather than texting her back, I hit the call option. I waited for her to pick up. After three rings, I heard her voice.

“Hello?”

Starting to cry harder, I managed to speak. “Stace…”

Immediately sensing that something was wrong, she asked me, “What’s wrong? What happened?“

"I was raped.”

“I’m on my way. Text me your address.”

“You’re coming here? From Mississippi?”

“Yes. Because you need me. I’ll be there as soon as I can. In the meantime, are you okay?”

“I’ll manage. Thanks, Stace. I love you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m on my way. I love you, too. Hang in there.”

As best friends go, I think I lucked out. She was beautiful, smart, wise beyond her years, kind, loving. She knew me better than I knew myself. She was always there without fail whenever I was down. We got along on my good days thanks to having similar tastes in music, movies, tv shows, books. She didn’t judge me but tried to help me when I messed up. When I was hurting, she went down the rabbit hole with me to pull me out of it.

I was grateful for Anastacia for coming and staying with me for a couple weeks, and for her husband for understanding. I was a bit uncomfortable with Josh knowing what had happened since we didn’t know each other well, but he was very considerate about all of it.

A month went by, and my bruises had faded. My cuts had healed and left minute scars. My shoulder had regained full mobility, but now I can predict when rain is due. My ribs were still healing, but the fractures were mostly healed. I got ready for work and walked in to the building, avoiding the stares and whispers I knew were happening, welcoming the gaudy, orange-colored painted walls and the skylight that never without fail casts a glare on the computer screens. Abby and Ducky had each gotten me flowers for my return. Abby, of course, went with black roses being goth. Ducky, went with an assorted bouquet of beautiful, costly flowers. I smiled slightly at the kind gesture. And sat down at my desk ready to work whatever case we had come our way.

Besides giving me flowers to show me support, during my leave, Ducky arranged for me to meet with a psychiatrist friend of his who specialized in trauma. Evidently, she owed him a favor. I walked into her office and sat down across from a beautiful, petite, brunette.

Dr. Rachel Cranston was patient with me as I recalled for her what had happened, withholding the suicide consideration having had put it behind me. She diagnosed me with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and then prescribed me an anti-anxiety medication and told me to call or make an appointment if I needed to talk again. With her written consent, I was psychologically cleared to return to work and field work.

After sitting down at my desk, I got a call from Abby requesting I come down to her lab. Figuring it was some surprise that she concocted, I was hesitant because I hate surprises. But she was insistent and she is not easy to say no especially when my curiosity gets the better of me.

When I got to her lab, she wasn’t alone. There was a rather extraordinarily tall man standing there. Abby approached me and gently hugged me welcoming back to work and tugged me into a separate section of her lab to explain why she requested my presence. The man. He was an operational psychologist assigned to evaluate the team. Abby wanted to avoid getting her head shrunk by this guy. Dr. Nathan Getz.

“Abbs. He seems harmless. I mean, he’s kind of cute in a goofy sort of way. And wow. Is he tall? What is he? 6'3”? 6'4”? 6'5"? Damn. Okay. Fine. Look him up. Let’s see his creds.“

Abby typed in his name in the database. _“Dr. Nathan Getz. Bachelor of Science from the University of Houston. Master’s degree from Boston College. Ph.D from Duke.”_

“It’s an impressive academic résumé. He seems legit. So what are you worried about?”

“I don’t want to get my head shrunk.“

“I’m right there with you. Although, I ought to be exempt considering I just had a psych eval. Isn’t the shutting of this down more of a Gibbs thing? I don’t have his kind of pull. I have no pull. We really should go back out there, Abbs. He knows we’re talking about him.”

“Fine,” Abby said in a huff. We exeunt that part of her lab and rejoin the handsome, tall, well-educated, brunet, brown-eyed doctor. “Hey. Dr. Nate Getz. But you probably know that.” He spoke in a baritone voice adding to his appeal. _What is this tingling feeling I have? Is it attraction? He doesn’t even know my name and I kind of want to jump him. Whoa. Wait. Jump back. I was, just a month ago, sexually assaulted, and now I’m craving sex. Is this some kind of need to regain control? I need to see Ducky or call Dr. Cranston immediately and discuss this with one of them. Oh, shit. He’s waiting for me to speak._

Extending my hand to have it be completely enveloped by his much larger one, “Hi. Special Agent Ana Hunter. Nice to meet you, Doc.”

“Likewise, Agent Hunter,” reluctantly releasing my hand stroking the back of my hand with his thumb in the process causing my skin to tingle from his light touch, sending signals to my hormones of wanting him to touch me more.

“Well, I have to get back to work. Abbs, you good?”

Abby nodded in the affirmative.

The deep voice spoke again before I managed a departure out the door back to the elevator and then to my desk, “Agent Hunter?”

I turned around and replied, “Yeah?”

"Any chance we can get a chance to talk some more sometime when you have time?”

“I had already recently passed a psych eval.”

“Not a psychological evaluation. Just a nice friendly chat. Maybe grab a cup of coffee.”

Abby looked like she was about to either have an aneurysm or lunge at him to kick his ass. I gave her a look implying that I am okay and I’ve got this.

“Just to be clear, are you asking me out on a date, Dr. Getz?”

“Nate. Yes. I am. Like you said, you already had been evaluated recently. So, you’re exempt from these ones. Thus, making it okay for me to ask you out.”

“No ethical boundaries.”

“Exactly. So, what do you say? Will you go out on a date with me, Agent Hunter?” _Oh my God! Eeeeeek! What do I say? Play it cool. I am attracted to him whatever the reason, but I shouldn’t make a definitive decision in either direction right now._

“Ana. I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll think about it. I gotta get back to upstairs and to work. Abbs, we’ll talk later. Bye, Nate.”

I turned back around and walked out of Forensics heading to the elevator. I pressed the buttons to take me back upstairs. I realized once the doors closed that I was smiling while inwardly freaking out. _I just got asked out. What the fuck do I do? Do I say yes? Should I turn him down? I have to live my life eventually, right? I need to talk to Ducky or Rachel desperately before I give myself an ulcer. Back to work for now._ Trying to hide my smile, I walked to my desk and sat behind it ready to solve whatever case we get handed to us that day.

 

**To be continued….**


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit content
> 
> Summary: Will Ana decide to take Nate up on his offer?

**Chapter: Three**

 

I sat in Dr. Cranston’s office on her couch while she scribbled notes on a legal pad resting on her lap as she sat with her legs crossed on the chair opposite the couch. She had already inquired as to how I was adjusting and how well I have been sleeping. After telling her that the nightmares and insomnia are still there but have lessened, I segued into the main reason I was there.

“I got asked out.”

“Really? What did you say?”

“That I would have to think about it.”

“You’re actually considering it? Well, that’s something.”

“I know it’s maybe way too soon after what happened but I haven’t felt this drawn to a guy in a while.”

“Tell me about that.”

“About my attraction towards this guy?”

“Sure.”

“Um, well, he’s really tall. Like freakishly tall. And all I could think about when I first saw him was I wanted to jump his bones. When we shook hands, his lingered and brushed up against mine. It was electrifying. Is this a common thing after a rape for a woman to be aroused by a man she just met?”

“It’s possible. Your body is telling you that you are physically healing and is ready whenever you are.”

“I’m honestly surprised about it. I don’t get asked out. Ever. I’ve never been on a date before. This is all new to me.”

“Give it time. You’ll get the hang of it. Tell me more about this mystery man of yours. How did you meet him?”

“He was in Abby’s lab. He’s an operational psychologist. Dr. Nate Getz. Kind of cute in a goofy sort of way. He was sent to do psychological evaluations on the team. Since I was exempt due to my recent eval, he didn’t see anything preventing him on an ethical standpoint from asking me out on a date.”

“Dinner and a movie?”

“Coffee.”

“It seems innocent enough. I don’t see why you shouldn’t. It would be in public. It’s casual. You can arrive and leave separately.”

“What happens when he wants to go on another and another? What happens when sex is brought up? What happens if he goes in for a kiss?”

“You can set the pace. Nothing has to happen until you are ready for it to happen.”

“Do I have to tell him what happened?”

“No. That’s up to you. You can control the situation.”

“I like him, Rach. Even though I only spent less than five minutes with him. Is it because he’s a shrink that I feel at ease with it, that I didn’t shoot him down straight from the get-go? Is he using those Jedi mind tricks that they teach you folks?”

“I don’t know. I think you may be analyzing it a bit too much. Just do whatever makes you comfortable. For now. Eventually, you need to step out of your comfort zone a bit. Going on a date may be a way to do that. With rape victims, it’s about regaining control. This may be your way of doing so. You need to ask yourself if you would rather regret saying yes or wondering what if because you turned him down.”

“If I say yes, then at least I tried. Right?”

“Yes.”

“So, what do I do?”

“That’s for you to decide. Unfortunately, our time is up.”

                                *******

After work had concluded for the day one day, Gibbs had noticed that I was still a bit on edge and hadn’t gotten much sleep. So, he took me down to the gym at NCIS and headed into the boxing ring after handing me gloves. I put them on with his assistance.

“What’s this about, boss?”

“Hit me.”

“What?! No!”

“You need to fight back against the fear. Take a swing at me.”

“This is crazy.”

“I can’t have one of my agents living in fear. I need them on top of their game. We’re going to stay here until you face your fear and overcome it.”

“By hitting my boss?”

“You have anger about what happened, right? You haven’t been sleeping. You need to take control back. Come on.”

“Gibbs…”

“Do it.” He pushed me a bit. He continue to try to antagonize a reaction out of me.

“Gibbs, stop. This is ridiculous.”

“Hit me.”

“Boss.”

“Hit me. Prove to me that you’re not scared. That you’re still NCIS agent material.”

“I wouldn’t be if I wasn’t.”

“Prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Prove it to yourself. Stop being a scared, little girl. Don’t let the bastards win.” Gibbs shoved me again and kept getting in my face. “Hit me. Prove me wrong. Fight back. Take a swing at me. You know you want to.” Another push. “Come on.”

Gibbs kept getting aggressive and invading my personal space. “Just one punch. Or aren’t you capable of even that? Obviously not, since you were almost killed. It’s almost like you wanted them to hurt you.”

With that, I lifted my right arm, retreating the elbow back, and moved my gloved fist forward and then clocked Gibbs right on the jaw, knocking him down on the mat.

He rubbed where I hit him and smiled. He  
stood up, helped me get the gloves off, wrapped his arms around me into a hug kissing the top of my head, and whispered “I’m proud of you. ‘Rule 16: If someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it.’ That’s what you did.”

He released me from his embrace replacing his arm around my shoulder and we stepped out of the ring.

Gibbs’ words resonated within me.

_Rachel also mentioned regaining control. Fighting back against the fear is what I need to do. Maybe agreeing to a date with Nate is a way to do that. Hey, that rhymed. Tehe. Right. Focus. But how do I accept his offer without making it seem like I’m asking him out? I don’t want to come off as desperate. Well, I’ll be seeing more of him considering Director Morrow offered him a position in the psych department at NCIS and he accepted it. Wait, did he accept because of me? He barely knows me. All he knows is my name. Unless, the psych evals. Could someone on the team told him? I mean, it’s possible that DiNozzo would need to talk about it, but it’s more likely that if Nate knows about the rape, he heard about from all the whispering. Scuttlebutt is probably the culprit, even though he hasn’t said anything or acted like he knows what happened. Jedi mind tricks. That’s what he wants me to think so I will still agree to go out with him despite not having given him an answer._

                                *******

 _Shit. Nate. And he’s coming this way. Play it cool._ “Hey!”

He exclaimed.

“Hi.”

“How’s it going?”

“Fine.” _Fuck. This is such a clipped, forced conversation. I need to salvage this. Can he tell how nervous he makes me? Maybe I should say yes to coffee. But I need to be more subtle and less awkward about it. Ah, got it._ “Running in empty. I honestly could really go for a cup coffee right about now, but I gotta get this paperwork done.” _“Yawn” God, that’s embarrassing._

“You know, there’s a coffee kiosk not far from here. Maybe a break would be a good idea. I could go for a cup myself. What do you say?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not? A jolt of java might be just the thing to help me focus. Let’s go.”

 

**.....to be continued…..**


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit content.
> 
> Summary: Ana has started seeing Nate and it’s going well. What happens when sex keeps coming up? Will they or won’t they? ;-)
> 
> Author’s note: Sorry it took me some time to post this. I’ve had a bit of writer’s block. Here be smut.

**Chapter: Four**

It’s been about a month since I started seeing Nate and it’s been going well. We get along great. We’ve been taking it slow. Haven’t kissed yet but I definitely want to.

Right now, because of a case, I’m heading back to work from some black-tie charity event that Ducky asked me to attend with him. This evening gown is kind of a bit extravagant for me but it is gorgeous. I still can’t believe Ducky took the liberty of buying it for me without him asking me and despite my protests that it was way too much.

The gown is satin, navy blue, strapless, A-line (whatever that means - I don’t speak fashion), with an embroided bodice and minor embroidery in the skirt. Absolutely gorgeous. The shoes are also navy blue with three-inch stilettoed heels. No idea who the designer is for the shoes or the dress, and I honestly could not possibly care less.

I need to change clothes. I can’t work a case in a ballgown. Thankfully, I left the clothes that I had on before I got all dressed up at my desk. Speaking of the bullpen desks, there’s Nate sitting on one of the empty desks. Empty because no agent sits there. Completely vacant except for my whatever he is.

 _Is it too soon to call him my boyfriend? I mean, we have had several successful dates over the past month, but are we boyfriend/girlfriend? Do I need to put a label on it? Maybe he’s simply my gentleman caller. Now, I sound like Blanche in_ A Streetcar Named Desire. _Damn you, DiNozzo, for driving me crazy with all of these movies. Avoid working with a cinephile if you can help it. The brainwashing is unfortunately permanent._

Nate looked up from the file in his hand completely stunned when he saw me in this get-up. He didn’t get a chance to see me earlier before I had left for the event. So, I really can’t blame him for being utterly speechless and baffled. It’s kind of adorable and extremely flattering.

Nate finally regained the power of speech and said, “Hey. Wow. You look beautiful. Absolutely stunning. I mean, wow.” _Still flabbergasted, I see._

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I walked over to him still sitting on the desk. He looked slightly confused by my approach unsure of what I am about to do or say. Despite his confusion, he maintains his composure as if nothing is going on his mind in regards to my behavior. I continue to walk towards him to the point where I am standing directly in front of him while he remains seated. I get closer and put one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder where it connects to his neck.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?”

“I just want to know what it would be like.”

I get closer heart racing and plant a gentle kiss on his lips, and then I slowly move away lightly brushing my nose against his in the process. My lips are tingling from the contact. My blue eyes connect with his brown ones. I start to back away.

“I should change my clothes.”

“Wait…”

Before I could question him, he stood up from the desk after I had given him room to do so. He placed his hand on my waist and pulled me towards him. He slid his hand onto my back essentially holding me in place. He used his other hand and lifted my chin so I would be looking up at him. He brushed it against my cheek till it rested on my neck. I was locked in place. He leaned his head forward until our lips reconnected.

_God, that feels good. I want more. Who knew someone could make me feel like this? I don’t want this moment to end. Ana, focus. Reciprocate. Don’t give a damn about the security cameras or if Gibbs or Director Morrow suddenly appear and catch us. I don’t care. Nothing else matters but this kiss with this man._

I wrap my hand around his neck with my other placed on his bicep and kiss him back. Our lips brush over each other’s varying in pressure. The kiss varies from gentle to deep. It’s a kiss that you can feel everywhere, that can make one see through space and time, one that makes you slightly weak in the knees from the pleasure it brings. The need for oxygen is greater than the passion. We broke the kiss both requiring air. I don’t want to walk away and he doesn’t want me to either. But the job takes precedent. So, with much chagrin, we separate, and I walk away from him to my desk to gather my clothes and head towards the bathroom to change completely unaware of the smile that is creeping up on my face. Lucky for me, I can still taste him and feel the sensation from where he had touched me.

********

Now, that kissing has been introduced in our relationship, Nate, who I can now definitely refer to as my boyfriend, and I seem to be kissing every chance we get and have expressed mutually “I love you”. We still haven’t slept together, but if he as good with fucking as he is with kissing, I really don’t know what is holding us back from taking the next step. Our make-out sessions are pretty heated. But, Nate, is a gentleman and won’t go further than he feels that we are both ready for sex and have been seeing each other long enough so that we aren’t rushing into anything so intimate.

That being said, I honestly think tonight is the night that we finally do it. He’s got this whole romantic evening planned. Nice restaurant, the kind that requires a reservation. Candlelit dinner. Ambience. Flowers. He usually brings me flowers before a date, but something is different tonight. I’m glad I took the time to shave, which I had to anyway because I’m wearing a sleeveless dress that shows off my legs. He greeted with me with a light kiss on the lips. We go to the restaurant and enjoy a delicious Italian meal. We return to my apartment, and he pulls out a bottle of red wine from my fridge, a corkscrew, and two glasses. He pours us each a glass asking me to put on some music.

“What kind of music do you want?”

“Whatever you’ve got.”

“Babe, you know that I have almost everything.”

“How about some Sinatra since you enjoy it so much?”

“I knew there was a reason I love you. Sinatra it is.”

Nate hands me my glass of wine.

“Why, thank you, darling.”

“You’re welcome.”

We sit next to each other on the couch sipping our wine curled into each other while the sounds of Ole Blue Eyes fills the air.

When “Fly Me to the Moon” begins to play, Nate takes our glasses and places them on the coffee table and stands up reaching out his hand for me to take it and stand with him. He pulls me towards him with our hands clasped, and he places his free hand on my waist after placing mine in his shoulder. Then, we’re dancing to my favorite song of all time in my living room. We’re pressed up against each other swaying to the melody of the music shuffling our feet slightly.

Nate leans down, which is a feat considering the height difference especially since I had removed my heels once reentering my apartment and kisses me, gently brushing his lips over mine. Even after the song has ended and the next began, the kiss didn’t end even though we at one point stopped dancing. The kiss deepened. His tongue lightly touched my lips requesting entrance, which I happily and almost eagerly acquiesced. I moved us towards the couch almost pushing him down on it and straddled his lap. The kiss intensified to the point where my legs that we’re on either side of his were wrapped around his waist when he lifted us off the couch and walked to my bedroom.

He pinned me against the wall and removed his lips from mine and placed them on my jaw and kissed down the side of my neck and across my collarbone. I sighed from the pleasure he was giving me. He moved us from the wall and walked to the bed placing my back against the top of my bed with him still on top of me.

“Are you sure about this?”

I smiled. “Definitely. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Nate chuckled and obliged my request. He flipped us over so I was on top of him and he slowly unzipped my dress and slipped the straps off my shoulders while I unbuttoned his shirt. I stood up next to the bed and slipped the dress off the rest of the way until it pooled on the floor at my feet. I tossed it in a nearby chair not bothering to rezip it or make sure it wouldn’t wrinkle in my haste.

Standing in just my bra and panties, black lace, a matching set, the sexiest lingerie that I have, I stated, “Your turn. We’re unfairly uneven.”

Nate stoop up next to me, untucked his undershirt, slipped his dress shirt off his shoulders, and took off his undershirt. Now, it was my turn to gawk at him. He was surprisingly toned and had just the right amount of chest hair. My eyes trailed down to his happy trail trying to hide a blush. My hands memorized every contour of his upper body and placed kisses here and there. Nate moaned in appreciation. My hand went down to his belt and fumbled with the buckle until he replaced his hands with my mine and undid the buckle and the button with ease and efficiency.

“Are you absolutely sure about this, sweetheart? There is no pressure. I’m fine if you want to stop right now.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No, but I don’t want to rush you if you’re not ready considering your lack of experience, which I am also totally fine with.”

“Nate, I love you. I’m ready for us to be together in this way. I promise.”

To prove my point, I unzipped his trousers and started to pull them slowly down over his ass and thighs. It took both of us to get them off of him and onto the floor. He led us back to the bed after pulling the covers back and pulling a wrapped-up condom out of his pants pocket placing it on my nightstand.

_Um, okay. Over eager, much? Did he forget that I’m on the pill for my hormonal imbalance? I guess he just wants to make sure all of our bases are covered. After dating for eight months, we were finally going to do this. If I do a fist pump right now, would that be situationally inappropriate? Haha._

Laying on top of me, Nate holds me up to him, reaches around my back to unclasp my bra, and slips it off my shoulders and tosses it to the floor. He looks at me appreciatively, his pupils dilated from lust. He begins to kiss every inch of skin exposed to him, he moves down my body paying special attention to each breast. _So, he’s a boob man? Got it. Okay then. Please, oh, please, continue._ He trails his kisses downward eliciting moans and sighs of pleasure from me.

“Luck be a lady tonight.”

He noticed the scar on my abdomen I got from the incident in Cairo and hesitated for a moment. He planted a loving kiss on the scar and the continued to move downward to the tattoo on my right hip closer to my pelvis right above the waistline of my panties that I got after what happened in Cairo to regain control. It says Rule 8 (“Never take anything for granted”) in Arabic. Abby went with me to get it, a bird on my lower back, and a fleur-de-lis on the inside of my left ankle. All of them are small and are in black ink.

When he reached my panties, he slowly pulled them off of me following it with kisses on my leg. He kissed back up my legs stopping to kiss my ankle tattoo for a bit making sure I still was willing. When he saw that my mind hadn’t changed, he kissed my inner thighs and my hips, and finally he kissed my mound seeing it bare. _Brazilian bikini waxes hurt like a motherfucker, but it so worth it when he get a response like his._ He licked my slit tasting my arousal, putting a finger inside of me pumping it in and out occasionally curling it. Bucking up from the shockwave he is sending me, Nate held me down with his arm on my hip, but not too hard to trigger a PTSD episode. He added a second finger inside of me curling them both hitting my g-spot and used his mouth and tongue on my clit licking it and sucking on it. Between the two pleasure spots receiving attention simultaneously, I came loudly, panting, and moaning Nate’s name.

Nate grabbed a tissue from the box on my nightstand and wiped my arousal from his chin and crawled up my body and kissed me letting me taste him on his lips and tongue, both of us moaning appreciatively. I slipped my hands down his chest till they reached the elastic waistband of his boxers and started to tug them off of him. He pulled them off the rest of the way and knelt between my legs. While he tore open the condom wrapper and put it on his cock, I took the opportunity to get a good look at the size of him. _Holy shit. He is definitely well-endowed. I mean, I knew he was big from our make-out sessions and feeling him harden inside of his pants beneath me. But wowsie wowsa._

After getting the condom on, Nate settled between my legs and rubbed the tip up and down my slickened slit and slowly began to push it into me. I hissed at the contact. He stopped immediately to make sure I was okay. I nodded my ascent and he continued to push into me until he filled me up. He stilled for a moment so I could get used to him. I wrapped my legs around his hips so he could get a better and deeper angle. The movement caused him to thrust suddenly. Seeing that I was okay with it, he continued to thrust slowly and deeply groaning from the tightness and the pleasure. He kept the same pace until we both came moaning the other’s name. He stayed inside of me a moment until he softened, and then he slowly pulled out and tossed the used condom in the wastebin next to my bed. And rolled over next to me pulling me towards him to have my head rest against his chest and my leg draped over his and his arm wrapped around me kissing the top of my head and pulled the covers over top of us.

Panting, Nate asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. That was… Wow.” I started to laugh.

“What?”

“This whole thing takes on a whole new meaning to ‘I’ve got you under my skin.’”

Nate laughed and kissed me. “I love you.

"I love you, too.

Our breathing finally back to a normal rate, we remained like that until we both dozed off in each other’s arms completely sated not having noticed that the music had stopped when it ran out of songs to play and became inactive.

**.....to be continued…..**


End file.
